À bientot, Paris!?

01/21/12

It’s my last night in Paris, and I could be out dancing , losing my self in the hazy light of a club and the heartbeat of the crowd, but instead I have spent the evening mostly alone in the room I share with Stephanie, packing, reflecting, and procrastinating on the academic tasks that still remain. I will depart tomorrow at 2:14 pm to begin my semester in Rennes and leave behind this three-week state of limbo, half in a world of academics, half living in this world of comme-vous-voulez that is Paris; here I am half in the moment, half thinking ahead to what is going to be when I start the next stage of this voyage étrangère.

I did seek a late-night gelato with Stephanie and another girl in our class, Chloe. This was in place of earlier plans to go to a discothèque with some other girls in the group;  I was very much intending to go, resigned to the fact that I wanted to experience more Paris nightlife, and this was my last chance for a while, though I do hope to return in the spring. I didn’t make it up the Eiffel tower or to Édith Pìaf’s grave, after all, or Montmartre! But I digress. Tonight, my mind wanted to go on this excursion, but I think in truth, my soul and my body were sounding a huge resounding no. I’m tired – these last few weeks have taken a lot out of me.

 In truth, I am not entirely happy with this course and its requirements, simply because the number of required sites we must see on our own is so extensive. One begins the day with a light step and a spark of curiosity, and finishes the day’s visits with all the life sapped out of them. This is not the Parisian way. One goes as one pleases ; we go too many places. As such one begins to see in tunnel vision, without the opportunity to really take in and process what one has seen. One museum a day, I can do. Two? Maybe, if the two go well together, such as L’Orangérie, devoted to the Impressionists, and the Musée d’Orsay, art of the 19^th century. Actually, something like that, I’ll be in heaven (I was.) Three? Centre Pompidou (and modern art) at the end of a five-hour excursion? Jamais dans la vie! You cannot ask me to look at a solid blue canvas and accept it as art if I have been walking and riding the metro for hours after a three-hour course in the morning, and I haven’t had coffee since before that class...

But that being said, I really can’t complain. I only regret not having more time to take in this beautiful city. I love to walk along the Seine, to sit on a bridge and be a voyeur... I still have an irrational fear of ordering a coffee by myself, and entering a store that’s not filled with people causes me a bit of pain, if it’s just me and the cashier. Still, I think I have a natural tendency to go through my days independently and Paris has allowed me that. I can navigate the metro myself, and get lost in the street without panicking... I can wander and pass as a french girl if I don’t talk to anyone.

I wonder often what the next stage will be -  will I have friends, will I be able to talk to my host family, will they accept me, will I be happy in the end? I don't have expectations of immediately being comfortable. It will take time. And I'm ready. 

Demain, on ira à Rennes! À tout à l’heure!